It's ...like...that old TV program. Fright Night.
Who: Mark Hoffman, Dracula, then their respective wardens.
What: The Bored Curse was hinted at 90 percent of dangerous accidents happen in the washroom. Accidentally becoming a vampire. All of that.
When Today.
Where Showers, Hoffman's room.
Warnings Death, vampire. All that.
The past few days of Mark Hoffman's life (after life? Un-life?) had been some of the best and some of the worst he had experienced. On the one hand, he'd been consumed-on the other...he'd kissed his arch enemy's warden.
That felt both right and wrong. The way she had looked at him afterwards was too much to bear however. We can't do this Well why not?
Because of Amanda.
AT the same time however, he was hoping for something from Amanda. Some kind of outburst, some kind of notation, something. There seemed to be an unspoken rule amid the wardens and inmates-don't let those two near each other but in a way she was the only link to his home.
Standing underneath the steady warm spray of shower, he hated himself, hated that, hated her but would have gladly spoken to her for any chance of someone with a common experience.
If only Rigg were here. Someone. Anyone. Crane had been right, they could use all of the things he had said about his life against him. Then that cop-that fucking Canadian had been right. People were going to leave.
It was nice to have people care. Again. He'd spent so long believing that people didn't care, that John Kramer was the only one who mattered. He had killed his friends-for-
Don't go down that road man.
More water.
A part of him wanted to go find Lupin and confess to talking with Sarah in the CES. They had talked a lot over their basket ball game. He'd probably be mad. He'd probably say the same goddamn thing Sarah did. It was like trying to put a band aid over a punctured artery.
He wanted out.
Toweling off, he went for his clothes. Slipping them on, he went for his shoes and headed toward the exit-musings interrupted. Dracula was standing outside the showers. There was a friend he hadn't expected.
"...Hey man, how's it going-"
Sometimes all it takes is a misplaced step, a drop of water where there shouldn't have been one. Just because the barge was magical doesn't mean there weren't accidents. Hoffman was in far better shape, but his luck-was terrible.
He fell back against the floor with a loud resonating crack as a sharp pain jutted up his skull and down his spine. Stunned, he lay there like a turtle staring into space as the world faded in and out of focus.
What: The Bored Curse was hinted at 90 percent of dangerous accidents happen in the washroom. Accidentally becoming a vampire. All of that.
When Today.
Where Showers, Hoffman's room.
Warnings Death, vampire. All that.
The past few days of Mark Hoffman's life (after life? Un-life?) had been some of the best and some of the worst he had experienced. On the one hand, he'd been consumed-on the other...he'd kissed his arch enemy's warden.
That felt both right and wrong. The way she had looked at him afterwards was too much to bear however. We can't do this Well why not?
Because of Amanda.
AT the same time however, he was hoping for something from Amanda. Some kind of outburst, some kind of notation, something. There seemed to be an unspoken rule amid the wardens and inmates-don't let those two near each other but in a way she was the only link to his home.
Standing underneath the steady warm spray of shower, he hated himself, hated that, hated her but would have gladly spoken to her for any chance of someone with a common experience.
If only Rigg were here. Someone. Anyone. Crane had been right, they could use all of the things he had said about his life against him. Then that cop-that fucking Canadian had been right. People were going to leave.
It was nice to have people care. Again. He'd spent so long believing that people didn't care, that John Kramer was the only one who mattered. He had killed his friends-for-
Don't go down that road man.
More water.
A part of him wanted to go find Lupin and confess to talking with Sarah in the CES. They had talked a lot over their basket ball game. He'd probably be mad. He'd probably say the same goddamn thing Sarah did. It was like trying to put a band aid over a punctured artery.
He wanted out.
Toweling off, he went for his clothes. Slipping them on, he went for his shoes and headed toward the exit-musings interrupted. Dracula was standing outside the showers. There was a friend he hadn't expected.
"...Hey man, how's it going-"
Sometimes all it takes is a misplaced step, a drop of water where there shouldn't have been one. Just because the barge was magical doesn't mean there weren't accidents. Hoffman was in far better shape, but his luck-was terrible.
He fell back against the floor with a loud resonating crack as a sharp pain jutted up his skull and down his spine. Stunned, he lay there like a turtle staring into space as the world faded in and out of focus.